Swapped
by XZ10
Summary: Fang is locked up, and Dylan has taken his place with the help of a new shapeshifting formula. Will Max fall head-over-wings for this fake-Fang, or will she realize that her black-loving, wordless wonder is trapped? Fax... maybe.
1. Fang's Rude Awakening

**A/N: I do not own Maximum Ride the series, or the characters. Please, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Fang POV<strong>

_Max..._ It was like an alarm had gone off in his brain the way the name shocked him awake. His eyes flew open on a completely unfamiliar room, yet he'd been in similar places before. Ah, yes: a lab. Great.

Fang's mind went into hyper drive. How had he gotten stuck in the lab in the first place? Last thing he knew, he'd been flying sky high away from the Flock, his gang below him, Maya at his side. He remembered the burning Paris, and Angel… Oh God, Angel. She was dead wasn't she? Pain filtered through Fang's being as the memory made its way to the center of his thoughts. Little Angel, dead. She'd only tried to help, and now she was a burned piece of rubble.

For once in his fifteen or so years of life, Fang was glad when a voice interrupted his deep thoughts.

"Ah, Fang. So glad we could meet again." A voice said silkily, threading its way sickeningly toward his strapped-to-a-freaking-table-self.

Fang recognized the voice slightly, and strained to see as a figure was suddenly illuminated in a flash of light as the scientist flicked on a harsh lightbulb.

"Ouch," Fang muttered, attempting to free his right arm so he could cover his eyes. He had to settle for a violent squint, still attempting to make out the figure standing in the doorway.

"Sorry, young fellow," the voice said, sounding not the least bit sorry. "But I'm not about to let you take Max from my son."

The figure moved into Fang's line of vision. Through dark bangs, Fang could make out the figure perfectly. Muttering a foul word under his breath, Fang gazed upon his almost-murderer: Dr. Gunther-Hagen.

Dr. G.H. moved to stand over him, smiling wickedly, and Fang glared at him for all he was worth.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the loony bin?" he asked, smirking. Then his world went black, and his last thought was: _Someone keep Max safe…_


	2. All His Fault

**A/N: I do not own Maximim Ride or its characters.**

**I'm cranking out the Chapters, guys! RnR? Please?**

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><p><strong>Fang POV<strong>

Fang woke up with a needle jabbed into his arm.

"AARRRGGH!" he yelled, attempting to fling the thing off, but to no success. _Right… tied to a table,_ he recalled, sighing.

The oh-so-good Dr. G.H. pulled the needle out, and Fang did not appreciate the length of the pointy object.

"Oh you really flatter me with all this special treat, Dr. G," Fang said, his voice raspy from disuse.

The Doctor almost jumped with surprise at Fang's wakefulness. Then, to Fang's utmost displeasure, the Doctor smiled at him. Warmly. Fang wanted to throw a rock at the guy, maybe even the needle. Fang nodded to himself. Yes, the needle would work.

"Well hello again, Fang," Dr. G.H. said putting the needle full of Fang's blood on a tray. "I see you've returned from your little space-out time for your remark about my sanity." Fang smirked. Dr. G.H. continued, "So you understand now, that you'll be knocked out if you cause me displeasure, yes? Good."

Fang rolled his eyes, and sighed again. The sigh turned into a yawn, and Dr. G.H. gave him a sharp look. Fang tried to raise his hands in a "Hey, can't help it," shrug, but again, his hands were bound to the extremely hard and uncomfortable table, so he could only execute a minor shoulder-roll.

"So what's the big plan this time, Doc?" Fang asked casually, keeping his voice bored, his expression neutral. But on the inside, Fang was dying to know. If he knew the plan, he could foil the plan. It was a Flock specialty.

Thinking about the Flock made a pang of pain beat through Fang's heart. For Angel… For Max… and for everyone else, of course. Fang's thoughts roamed to his gang, and a picture entered his mind of a beautiful girl with a pink streak through her brown and blond hair. Maya. But she was no Max, she never would be, and so Fang refocused on his plan, so he wouldn't have to deal with the unexpected mini mind-breakdown.

"The plan, you ask?" the Doctor said, stealing Fang's signature smirk, causing Fang to silently seethe. "Well, I'll show you."

Fang watched, a little repulsed, as Dr. G.H. emptied Fang's needle into a jar, mixing in a dash of foamy pink liquid and a splash of fizzing blue into. Then, Dr. G.H. _drank_ the mixture. Fang, being Fang, said nothing, showed nothing, but on the inside, he was retching. _WTH was wrong with this man?_

Nothing happened to Dr. G.H., but then, the Doctor smiled at Fang, and closed his eyes. Fang blinked, and when he opened his eyes a second later, the Doctor was gone.

In his place, stood Fang. But Fang was strapped to the table, so that Fang couldn't be Fang. _Ah, I'm confusing myself,_ thought Fang, the real Fang, mildly. Then he noticed the white lab coat. The jar in the other Fang's hand. _Oh my God…the madman's created a shape-shifting potion!_

Fang watched silently, disturbed, as Dr. G.H. turned back into a crummy scientist again. The Doctor turned and smiled evilly at Fang again, clearing enjoying the mild look of freak-out in Fang's eyes, knowing that the look meant that Fang was in I'm-going-to-blow-up mode.

"And now," the brilliantly mad scientist stated, eyeing Fang joyously. "You see how Dylan will win over Max if she doesn't see the perfection in him, if she still calls for _you."_

Fang's olive skin paled, but he managed an eye-roll anyway. "Like Max is dumb enough to fall for that."

"Maybe not dumb enough," the Doctor agreed. "But certainly she is heart-broken enough to want her Fang back, no matter what the circumstances of his appearance are. No matter how he acts."

Fang's mouth opened wide for a sharp retort, but closed just as quickly. What the Doctor said made sense, Fang knew that he'd feel the same if Max had left him like he had left her. She would believe the lie. "And it's all my fault," Fang whispered, hearing the pain in his own voice.


	3. Never Fang

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys! Computer problems... but here it is! Chapter 3, and... it's Max's Point of view! RnR?**

**I do not own Maximum Ride. I'm not cool enough. :P**

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><p><strong>Max POV<strong>

I woke up from my less-than-stellar snooze at 2:00 am. Wow, two hours of light doze after what's just happened. I tip-toe to the window in the room that Nudge and I are sharing, smiling at her sleeping form. At least someone would get some sleep tonight.

I looked out over the Paris skyline. Yeah, I said Paris. For those of you who haven't caught up with the whole "Angel is gone" problem and the "Paris almost blew up" thing, well, too bad.

Looking out the window, I saw citizens working together, picking up rubble, calling out. They were searching to see if anyone had gotten stuck in the debris. They didn't need to. Everyone had gotten away safely except for… my baby.

Wiping away a tear, I opened the door to the boy's adjoining room. Iggy was stretched out on his bed, long arms and legs flopping everywhere. Dylan was laying with his arms crossed beneath his head, and I had to do a double-take to make sure he was still sleeping. Yup, he was, although there was a weird test-tubey thing sitting on his nightstand. A nerve-relaxer, maybe? I'd rather not guess.

I was about to leave when I spotted Gazzy. My brave little warrior was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring blankly at a wall.

"Gaz, are you okay?" I asked. Wow, Max. Smooth. Ask the kid who just lost his sister is he's okay. That'll help.

I gently pull Gazzy into my arms, rocking him. He might act like a tough guy, but he was hurting, I could tell. I watched as a silent tear traced its way down his face, framed with floppy blond strands.

Gazzy let out a muffled sob, burying his head in my chest. He clung to me like he was the dying one.

"Max…" he snuffled. "Don't leave me."

I looked at him, and hugged him to me. "I won't Gazzy, not ever." Those words drudged up a promise made to me by someone who I thought would never leave me either, someone who promised he'd always be there for me. He wasn't here now, though. He'd never comfort me again. It was my turn to tear up.

_Oh God… I wish he was here, now. He would know how to cheer Gazzy up. Just having him with us again would make everyone happier,_ I thought, sniffing a little as Gazzy's breath grew deeper, and his head sagged against me.

I let out a dry sob as I plopped Gazzy onto the pull-out bed. I had barely walked a step before I crumpled to the floor in a heap. Images were threatening to pull me under. I watched black wings, so dark they were almost purple, unfurl in my mind. I saw the smile that could make the world a better place, but that was so rarely shown. I saw a boy whom I had loved with all of my heart, with all of my being. I saw heartbreak, and I was breaking inside again.

Suddenly, a warm hand was on my shoulder, comforting. I looked up into the eyes of Dylan, and leaned against him for a moment.

"Thanks," I whispered, my voice cracking. I edged off of him and brushed off my jeans, looking at his wide, innocent eyes. He was hurting too.

I leaned back down and kissed him on the cheek, remembering how he'd kissed me twice, somehow comforting me with each. But it hadn't been enough. I would always love… Fang. Fang, who could never be replaced in my heart, as he had replaced me in his.

"Night, Dylan," I whispered, heading back to my room. I silently closed the door, and leaned my forehead against it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered against the cold wood, taking a steadying breath, wondering if Dylan could hear me. "You'll never be Fang."


	4. What He Heard

**A/N: So sorry that it's short, guys! I just thought that it was a good place to end it, so, yeah. I did. RnR? I'd appreciate it!**

**I do not own Maximum Ride, as I've said before.**

**Also, big shout-out to NothingLastForever and inked in for their support on this 'fic! Thanks, y'all!**

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><p><strong>Dylan POV<strong>

Dylan heard the door to his shared room creak open, and quickly squinted his eyes almost shut. He watched as a brown-haired girl with red and blond streaks crept into the room, concern filling her motherly gaze. _Ah, Max,_ Dylan thought a tad ruefully, _why can't you see how perfect we are together?_

Dylan watched silently as Max's chocolate gaze drifted to his form. She turned to move on, but then her head snapped back, like she could see through his act. Dylan quickly made his breathing deep and even, how it would be were he really asleep. He barely contained his relieved sigh as Max's gaze alighted on Gazzy, who had been brokenly staring at a cream-colored wall for hours on end.

He watched through blond bangs as Max took the Gasman into her arms and murmured in his ear. Amazed, Dylan saw Gazzy's head nod off onto Max's shoulder. He'd tried to get Gazzy to fall asleep for an hour, and then he'd given up. Here Max was, and within five minutes, the little blondie was out like a light!

A muffled sob broke through Dylan's reverie. His head snapped towards that of the only bird girl in the room. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she was placing Gaz on his pull-out bed stiffly, like moving suddenly hurt. Completely baffled, Dylan watched her crumple to the rough carpeted floor, body tucked in the fetal position.

Suddenly, Max sobbed out a name that sounded sort of like '_Famg._' Red rage spilled through Dylan's vision, tumbling like a wave about to break over unsuspecting innocents. _She's still crying over __**Fang**__? _He thought angrily, feeling like he could just fly out of this hotel and knock the asshole out of the air. What was freaking _wrong_ with him, that he'd leave the most perfect girl on Earth, Maximum Ride? The most beautiful, tough, kind girl that had ever lived? Dylan shook his head, disgusted.

Another choked sob rent itself from Max's throat. Dylan's angered ebbed as quickly as it had come, watching the girl whom he loved most in the world cry her heart out.

Silent as the wind, or, more appropriately, an owl, he went to her and touched her shoulder lightly.

The blond teenager felt a jolt go through his fearless leader before she relaxed into his arms, crying ending after a moment.

"Thanks," Max mumbled at him, her chocolate eyes holding his blue for the briefest of moments, making him feel like his heart was going to explode. And then, to make his heart even fuller, she leaned down, and she kissed his cheek.

She got up and brushed off her bloody and grimy jeans, and headed back into her room.

"Night, Dylan." She said without looking back, leaving him hungrily memorizing her winged back. If he hadn't been so focused on her, Dylan never would have heard her next words. And he wouldn't have done what he did. But he did hear her, and what he heard made his so recently bursting heart break.

And the reason was simple. She'd said, "You'll never be Fang."

And Dylan knew that he never, ever, ever would.


	5. Mr Tall, Dark, and Dylan

**A/N: Ahhh! Sorry I took so long to post this, people! I couldn't get on my account for three days, so... yeah! I was mucho upset!**

**This is another Dylan Point of View chapter, so excuse the possible suckiness of it. :P Dylan irks my writing process.**

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed so far on "Swapped"! You're the reason Swapped has five chapters, now! Enjoy the newest!**

**Also, I do not own Maximum Ride. Meh.**

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><p><strong>Dylan POV<strong>

For a while, Dylan just sat there on the carpeted ground, staring at the blank wall that Gazzy's eyes had so recently been scrutinizing as well. Funny, really, how both of them had lost someone important to them today. Heck, Dylan had lost _two_ people that he cared about. Sure, Max was still alive, and she would still talk to him and plan with him, but he knew now that nothing he ever did would make her love him as she'd loved Fang.

Sighing, Dylan pulled himself to his feet, suddenly feeling like he was eighty years old instead of eight months. Just as he was about to get back into bed, something caught his eye.

A tube marked, 'Fang' in miniscule letters was sitting on his bedside table, its contents pink and blue and fizzy.

"Why would this tube be Fang's?" Dylan wondered aloud, suspiciously eyeing the strange tube. Iggy stirred in the bed next to him, and Dylan decided to move his investigation into the bathroom.

Flipping the light, the clone sat on the closed toilet lid and turned the tube over and over. This led to absolutely nothing, yet Dylan was still confused. Why would someone leave Fang a tube of fizzy mixture? He hadn't been part of the Flock for months. Of course, Dylan wasn't officially part of the Flock either… but still.

"I wonder…" he murmured aloud. What if the mix was poisoned? Max was sure to want to try anything with Fang's name on it, anything that could have been Fang's at one point. Then, whoever poisoned it would have weakened the Flock to an unimaginable point. Dylan shuddered; he couldn't let anything bad happen.

"It's not like I have anything to lose, after all," Dylan whispered harshly under his breath, popping the lid of the blue and pink fizz. He quickly swallowed three drops before he lost his nerve.

Nothing happened, at first, anyway. Then Dylan found himself shrinking a few inches, his hair growing longer, and, looking in the mirror, Dylan saw his blue eyes turn to almost black, his hair darkening to the same tone.

"Oh, God," Dylan said, bringing his hand to his face. The Fang in the mirror did the same. Dylan stuck his tongue out. Mirror Fang copied him.

"I-I'm Fang." Dylan spun around and raced out of the bathroom, throwing the door to the balcony open. _One final test,_ he thought sharply, and with that, Dylan threw himself over the railing and into the air, pushing his wings out.

At first, Dylan refused to look at his wings, but curiosity got the best of him. Slowly, the used-to-be-blond turned his head, peered at his wings… and almost had a heart attack. Because where his wings should have been, midnight-black ones were flapping to keep him aloft. The very tips of his feathers seemed to gleam purple in the starlight from the Parisian sky.

"Holy shi-" Dylan began, but stopped to marvel at what had happened to his body. He was, in every way possible, Fang. Shoulder-length black hair, midnight wings, slender and lithe body… all Fang. The only things remotely Dylan's now were his clothes, which had decided to stay the same when everything else had changed.

He looked himself over again, ogling at how easy it was to maneuver through the air without all of his extra muscle-bulk. Dylan slid through the air for countless minutes, enjoying the ease of Fang's strokes, the way one flap could coast him for twenty seconds.

And then, it hit him. He realized how Max would finally appreciate him, really love him for the first time. He was Fang. Fang could come back. Well, at least Dylan could make him come back. And not only that, but Dylan would disappear when Fang made his reappearance, and at the moment, Dylan could really care less. He'd figured out how to get Max. This was his shot.

Dylan continued swooping through the air until his body became heavier, and light began to seep over the horizon. Sighing, the boy turned around in the air and headed back into the hotel room.

Dylan quickly retreated into the bathroom after his flight and turned toward the mirror. He was himself again, blond hair and all.

"Hmm…" Dylan murmured, mulling everything over. He'd been out flying from about 2:30 a.m. maybe, until about 5:30 a.m. So, about three hours. He'd taken three drops of mixture…

"Each drop is worth an hour of Fang!" Dylan exclaimed earning a moan of, 'Shut up!' from Iggy in the boy's room.

Pocketing his savior, the fizzy, blue, and pink mix, Dylan flung open the bathroom door and beamed in on Iggy's floppy form.

"Ugh, Dylan… I can feel the enthusiasm vibes from over here," the blind boy muttered. "It's too early for emotion, turn down the volume a little, or get a room." And with that, the gangly teen flipped over and went back to bed.

Dylan laughed. "Okay, Igs, I'll take my vibes away." And with that, Dylan grabbed the hotel key, and left the room, whistling.

Shutting the door, he fingered his pocket, and smiled again, even larger this time. Dylan felt happier than he had in hours, no, days.

"Max is as good as mine."


End file.
